From the Eyes of a Shrew
by DrowningInTearsOfCrimson
Summary: Well.. um..... More dots... Yeah... Um... Posted this a while ago on my other account... yeah... Pairing: FayeSpike (w00t)
1. Oh, So, Typical Or Is It?

**_Authoress: Michelle C._**

Date: February 23, 2003 Series: Cowboy Bebop 

**_Disclaimers: Uh…_** ***_Stares*_** **_Do you think I own Cowboy Bebop? My… you're stupider than I thought =D Run around in circles. *Watches as personz run in circles* Gooooooood personz. I've always loved obedient peoplez. (No, I don't own CB, as much as I'd love to =*[)_**

**From the Eyes of a Shrew**

**Chapter 1**

**Oh, So Typical… Or Is It?**

I sighed as I sat down. 'This is a life?' I thought dejectedly. I sighed again and stretched my legs out on the big ugly couch of the old ship. 'Repulsive old thing,' I thought, not quite sure myself if I meant the yellow lump Jet insists on calling a couch or the Bebop, the ship that 'Papa-dear', 'Brat', 'Mutt', the 'Lunk-head', and I call 'home'. Heh. Some home.

            I sighed again as I stared up at the fan. 'Why does Jet bother keeping that thing?' I thought, scowling.

            It was hot. **Really** hot. And the sore excuse for a fan was broken. Again. Didn't matter anyway. It only had 2 flap… thingies.

            The air conditioning was on the fritz again too. "Damned ship," I said aloud.

            "Talking to yourself again, Faye?"

            'Damn it.'

            "People are gonna start thinking you're a nut," he said.

            "Spike," I said and whirled my head around to glare at him, the simple action letting loose small droplets of sweat that were clinging to my now-screwed hair. "Spike," I said again, more slowly now. "Go away," I said, putting my head back down on the armrest. "Please," I reluctantly added when I didn't hear his stupid shoes moving any farther away from me.

            I closed my eyes and few seconds later, trying in vain to actually fall asleep. Yeah right. Like even the Mutt could sleep in the heat.

            And that's when I felt him. 'Oh my god,' I thought twitching. 'He did **not** just do that.' I kept that thought in my head for a little while but it didn't help much. I thought it faster and faster until it all blurred into gibberish. 'He did **not** just do that, he did not just do that, he didnot just do that, hedidnot justdo that, hedidnotjustdothat, hedidnotjustdothathedidnotjustdothathedidnotjustdothathedidnotjustdothat……'

            But he did. Spike Spiegel had planted his butt on top of my legs. I had my legs together and they were in no way strong enough to move him, let alone to lift him off of me so I did the only thing that I could think of at the time.

            "Get your friggin' ass offa my legs, Spike Spiegel," I growled, my eyes still shut. Oh god, and guess what he did then. Just guess. Give up? Heh. Get this…

            "Nah. I don't really feel like it," he said smoothly.

            My eye twitched a bit more. I tried to pretend that I didn't hear him and squirmed a bit under his weight. I guess he couldn't have been what you would consider 'heavy' but he definitely wasn't light, that's for sure. Oh god. The heat was really getting to me by then.

            "Spike," I said sweetly, opening one eye a smidge, "**please** get the **hell off** of me." I said the last part with a bit of a sharper tone.

            "But I'm so **comfortable**," he said with a whine. Oh boy was he asking for it. 'Comfortable' my ass. I knew that he was just as uncomfortable as I was but was simply trying to get a rise out of me. Well…

            "Spike," I cooed now. "Spike, be a sweetheart," I said slowly, "AND GET THE FRIGGIN' HELL OFFA ME BEFORE I TAKE THAT MOP YOU CALL HAIR AND USE IT TO MOP THE GODDAMN FLOOR!" That oughtta show him.

            "No water," he said easily, leaving the couch finally. I lifted my back and sat up with my legs in the same position.

            "What?" I asked, my eyes shooting daggers at the back of that green afro of his.

            "No water," he said again without stopping.

            'Why that… that…' I couldn't find the right word for him.

            "Faye-Faye!" came a voice. "Faye-Faye, Faye-Faye!!"

            'Oh no,' I thought in horror. Quickly, I pulled my legs off the couch. Big mistake. "OW!!!" I cried. 'Damn it!' I thought, wincing. It was that damn hot, hot enough so that when I sweated so much and then left my skin on that stupid… leather (or plastic, or whatever the hell that cheap ugly lump was made of), it stuck! So my legs were pretty damn red when I got up…

            Rubbing my hot, and now stinging calves, I started to limp out of the room. 'Better this than having that little Brat jump on me. I'm tired enough anyways, and besides, it's too damn hot…' I thought before stumbling forward a few more feet.

            "Faye-Fa—"

            "Oof," I cried as Ed came leaping into the 'living room.' "ED! Get the HELL OFF OF ME!" I screamed, thrashing a bit. Wasn't it bad enough that that stupid Lunk-head sat on my legs, forcing them to stick like glue to the couch, did I **have** to have this… crazy little girl plow into me and then sit on my stomach too? Wasn't my life horrible enou—

            'Forget it,' I thought as Ed got off. "You're so lucky it's so hot, Ed," I said slurring my words slightly.

            I heard Ed laugh like a maniac and yelling something about water, fuel, and food. I was too tired, though, and trudged to my room, slumping into an untidy little heap on my bed the second I hit something soft, silky, and smooth.

            Before I fell asleep, I felt cool air all over my body. It was so **cold** all of a sudden…! I actually started to shiver from the cold, but was too tired to move.

            Man… What a whacked out day. First, it was so hot and all day when I was awake, it stayed that way making me think I would die from dehydration or something.

            Then, I was trying to sleep and I felt like I would freeze to death. 'The cosmos really hates me,' I thought before drifting off.

            The last thing I remembered seeing was a mop of fuzzy green hair by my door (which I was sure I had shut) and it coming closer and closer. The next thing I knew, I was in a blissful and pleasant place (at least for that time being) and away from the heat… the cold… whatever.


	2. Me vs Me

**_Authoress: Michelle C._**

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**_Date: March 6, 2003_**

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**_Series: Cowboy Bebop_**

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Disclaimers: See, "disclaimers" starts with "d" and so does "don't" and "doesn't". 

From the Eyes of a Shrew 

**Chapter 2**

Me vs. Me 

"Faye…"

            'Huh?' I thought.

            "Faaaye…" I heard the voice say again. It was like a light, feathery voice, the kind of voice that you hear in those… scary movie things.

            "What is it? What do you want?" I asked, sort of annoyed.

            "Faye… help me…"

            "Help you? Why should I help you? Who are you?" I was confused at this point. Very. Help? Help her? Wait. Her? How did I know it was a her?

            "I… am you. Help me. Help yourself. Understand."

            "Understand?"

            "Yes." Great. Riddles. Whoop dee.

            "But… what do you want me to understand?"

            "I am you and you are me. Help us." Peachy. More riddles. Yeah. Like I'm a real riddle person. My whole life was a riddle—a puzzle, really, with so many missing bits and pieces.

            "What?" I asked, totally confused.

            "Faye."

            "What now?" I grumbled.

            "I want to live."

            "What?" So she wants me to help. And she is me. And she… me… I want to live. Huh?

            "I think I want to live. I am you. Do you want to live?"

            "Huh? Of course I do."

            "Of course. You are me. I am you. But do you **really**? Do **we** really?"

            "Really what?"

            "Want."

            "Want to **what**?"

            "Live…"


	3. Family part 1: Memory

**_Authoress: Michelle C._**

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**_Date: March 9, 2003_**

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**_Series: Cowboy Bebop_**

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Disclaimers: See first 2 chapters From the Eyes of a Shrew 

**Chapter 3**

**Family (Part 1): Memory**

"Of course I want to live."

"Do you? Do I? Our will is strong, but is our heart? Is our mind?"

"What do you mean?"

"Papa." One simple word…

"Papa?" I asked. That word felt so foreign to my mind, my mouth, my tongue, but… so familiar at the same time. "Pa… Papa? Daddy?" I asked uncertainly. I haven't thought about my past for a long time, but when I use to before, I just wondered about what happened to me and where I came from. All about **my** past. Nothing about anyone else. I never once thought of my parents.

"Yes. Daddy. Your Papa. My Papa."

"Papa… Mama…" I let the words tumble out of my mouth, barely aware that I had said them aloud.

"Yes. Mama, Papa, and—"

"Me."

"Yes. You. Me. Us."

"Mama, Papa, and me," I said as tears flooded my eyes. Suddenly, I was aware that I was facing somebody who looked exactly like me. Well, a younger version of me, anyways. That carefree, beta-tape version of me…

It hit me then what she… er… I… er… Faye meant by "You are me. I am you."

All of a sudden, something flashed in front of me and I looked down to find myself… floating. It was quite strange, really, because I felt completely calm. I mean, here I was, **hovering** in a greenish-white light and I didn't freak out at all. Maybe it was the fact that I felt something tell me it was all right. Or perhaps it was that ghostly image that hung in front of me, silencing my fears and questions. I was crying…

"Oh my god," I cried in shock. "Oh my… Mama? P-Papa?"

"Yes."

"And me. It's… me."

"…"

"And… Beth! And Andy!"

"…"

I felt more tears slip from my eyes. "My sister… My brother… My… family…"

"You remember…?" my beta version asked.

"Yes."


	4. Family part 2: Discovery

**_Authoress: Michelle C._**

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**_Date: March 26, 2003_**

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**_Series: Cowboy Bebop_**

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**_Disclaimers: See other chapters_**

From the Eyes of a Shrew Chapter 4 Family (Part 2): Discovery 

            The picture of Mom, Dad and my elder brother and sister of nearly a decade (A/N: um… I think I phrased that right. I mean that they're older by about a decade, if I didn't get my point across) faded as I stood stiffly, staring at the misty-grey 'void'. Then, a picture of Dad, smiling, came up. As Mom's took his place, I noted that I had gotten my violet hair from Mom, for Dad had soft, golden locks.

            Mom's face was very pretty. She had a small smile and you could tell that when she was happy that even though the smile was small that it could light her whole face up. She had beautiful blue eyes that were very wide yet calm, the total opposite of Dad's bright green eyes.

            My father's eyes were my eyes. Except that his were full of boyish joy and excitement—eyes that deserved to be large and friendly looking—crammed into small slit, where as my eyes were just what they were—slits.

            Then, my brother, Andrew, appeared, smiling as well. He was so handsome with his blonde hair and green eyes. He could have passed as a younger clone of Dad. Only, if you looked very closely, he had very cool eyes. Though his face showed the boyish enthusiasm that my dad had and the ecstasy of a seventeen-year-old boy should show, his eyes were calm, almost sad.

            Lastly came Beth. She had beautiful golden hair, just like Dad's but it was so smooth and sleek that it almost shined, unlike Dad and Andy's messy, unruly tresses. Beth's eyes were a smoky blue and looked kind of sad. She wore a half smile on her face and her large, delicate eyes were so distant. She had Mom's eyes.

            Beth had the calm, cool facade that Mom had too. She and Mom looked distant in all the other memories I had of her. Even Andy and Dad didn't look all too happy in the later memories I had of them. Mostly, I was a young child, about 6 or 8. They all looked so sad playing with me. It was like they knew my fate even though it was years away…

            They all looked "that way" towards my later memories… and some of the last caught my attention, for they looked slightly happier, and yet more burdened at the same time if that possible. The memories were the ones where Beth was holding a small bundle in her hands. Memories of the small, happy face of a baby resurfaced in my mind. She was so beautiful, and most of all, carefree unlike the other members of our little family. Beth was playing with the 2-month-old's hair.

            The infant had golden hair like Beth, wide blue-grey eyes and a petite, rose-red mouth. I think the little one had gotten her slim face from the father. Beth had slightly rounded features.

            Another memory was of that little girl around the age of 4, playing around some large boulders. This memory came with a rush of sounds and senses. I felt my hair whipping around my face again and I smelled, and even tasted, the salty ocean of Earth as if it was only yesterday that I was there with my niece. I actually saw my pale hand lift a few strands of my hair out of my then-teenage face.

I was 15. Beth was 24, and Andy was 25. They were both standing over beside me. It was so real that I felt that if I lifted my hand, like I had in my memory, that I could have reached out and touched them—that I could feel Andy's course hand or Beth's soft evening outfit. Or even the child's small head.

            The little girl was in the last memory. She was about six or seven, though; in this recollection and we were by the ocean again.

            "Auntie Faye-Faye," she cried happily. "Auntie Faye-Faye! Lookit me! Lookit me climb," she said as she scampered up some large boulders by the roaring ocean side. The waves crashed against the rocks spraying some water droplets on the child. She giggled again and took one hand off the rocks to wave at me and I remembered scolding her earlier for doing that. I was afraid that she would fall but she didn't before.

            Suddenly, I saw her slip on the rocks and fell into the rampant ocean below. I saw/ remembered running towards her, calling her name. I remembered not seeing her surface and I remembered diving down and dragging her up onto the sandy beach.

            What I remembered next was waking up next to… a cryogenic chamber. One that held the little girl in it. A cryogenic capsule that my niece was placed in while I was unconscious; a chamber my sister's first and only daughter was in.

            My niece, Beth's own flesh and blood, my parents' first grandchild… The beautiful blond hair, blue-eyed angel…

            Julia.


	5. Past

**_Authoress: Michelle C._**

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**_Date: March 26, 2003_**

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**_Series: Cowboy Bebop_**

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**_Disclaimers: Lezzee. Do you think I own Cowboy Bebop? Thought not. _**

From the Eyes of a Shrew 

**Chapter 5**

Past 

            "J-Julia's m-m-my niece?" I stuttered.

            "…"

            A brief flash of Julia, now grown, still blonde, and still beautiful flashed across the misty abyss. Then, the image blurred and became that of Spike. I looked away when the green-afroed lunk-head come into sight and when I gazed back, Jet's face was showing. When Jet appeared, it stopped and it was like audio suddenly clicked on again like in that memory with… Julia. And her falling.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

            _"So… What's she like?" Jet asked in my memory._

            _"She's… ordinary," I replied._

            _Jet was quiet and his face was a mask of curiosity mixed in with somewhat of a type of respect for me, silently asking me whether I wanted to continue or not and telling me that it was alright if I didn't. I did._

            _"The kind of dangerous, beautiful ordinary that you just can't leave alone," I said in my memory. It was like watching a movie, an old, old movie that I had memorized all the lines from already. I continued speaking to Jet in my memory, "Like an angel from the underworld or maybe a devil from paradise."_

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

It was a few months after that event had taken place and I still remembered everything. It was the day that I had realized how utterly perfect that Julia was; it was the day that I had given up on any future I could have had with Spike Spiegel, the man that I had loved. I had given him up to the Angel of Death; he belonged to her as a puppy belonged to the holder of his leash. He loved her even though she betrayed him, even though he tortured himself for nearly a year, not sure whether his love was dead or alive.

As suddenly as Julia's face appeared again, it disappeared, leaving behind only the smoky white mist that it had left every time, almost like the vapors were the erasers, attempting to erase the past.

The past is one thing that nothing can erase. That was one thing I learned long ago. Whether you want to or not, the past always catches up to you sooner or later. Before, I had no past, but I wondered about it. I even created a past for myself, adding this and that to what other people had given to me. I was a singer; I was a gypsy; I was Poker Alice, the greatest poker player in the universe; I was Faye without a last name; I was Faye Valentine.

Later, my past started finding me in bits and pieces, like seeing an old friend. Or an old scene. Or something familiar.

Now the past was here.

"Now do you understand?"

"Understand what?"

"I know you know what."

I sighed and said slowly, "Yes. I do."

"Do what? Know? Or understand?"

"…understand. I understand," I replied. "Now, I understand," I said before my younger self faded away. I knew she would never come back. She had come to help me understand and find my way; she was to help rekindle the memories of my past and now that her task had been fulfilled, I knew that that would be the very spot that she would stay: in my memories.

In the past.


End file.
